


In such a hurry to die

by Anathema Device (notowned)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notowned/pseuds/Anathema%20Device
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I were you, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to die."</p><p>Athos is surprisingly ungrateful for being saved from the firing squad. </p><p>Takes place immediately after the tavern scene at the end of S1Ep1, "Friends and Enemies" (slightly AU as Aramis doesn't go to Adele's house)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In such a hurry to die

In the end, neither of them needed to walk Athos home. Their friend levered himself up from the table not long after d’Artagnan returned to his lodgings, legs steady and gaze no more murky than usual.

“Calling it a night early?”

Aramis pursed his lips. “I think so. I might drop in on him on my way back to my rooms. What about you?”

“Going home.” Porthos stretched. “Been a long, long day.”

“That it has, my friend.” Aramis stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “Enjoy your slumbers.”

Athos had made it quite a way up the lane before Aramis walked out into the chilly, damp night. He contemplated trying to catch up with him, but Athos might be offended that anyone thought he was incapable of getting home without assistance. That he often _wasn’t_ would make no difference. So Aramis stayed a little way back, watching his friend walk with uncommon purpose.

Something had been odd all day with Athos. Even being released from prison at the last moment hadn’t cheered the man. Perhaps he was just tired, as they all were. Aramis doubted he had any sleep in the Châtelet, waiting for execution. Who could, in such circumstances?

Athos climbed the stairs to his room. Aramis waited to see if he lit a candle to undress by. There was no moon to speak of, so his lodgings would be dark.

When no candlelight showed, and the shutters remained open, Aramis quietly mounted the stairs and listened outside the door. All he could hear was creaks...and the sound of a man struggling to breathe. An assassin? Here?

He burst through the unlocked door, the small light from the landing revealing no one else but Athos, on the floor, struggling with himself. Aramis threw himself at his friend, and discovered that Athos was attempting to strangle _himself_ , his knotted scarf looped around his neck and the candlestick being used to wind it tight as a noose. Aramis fought Athos to force his hands away, and in the end had no choice but to punch him hard, dazing him enough that Aramis could pull the candle stick away and hurl it from them. Then he lifted the scarf from around Athos’s neck, and tossed it aside.

Athos lay on the floor, eyes closed, breathing hard. Not unconscious, but choosing not to seem awake. Aramis climbed to his feet and put his hands under Athos’s shoulders, intending to drag him onto the cot, but Athos burst into action, fighting him off. “Leave me alone!”

Aramis let go. Athos sat slumped over, ignoring him, so Aramis busied himself finding the candlestick, and then a candle with enough length to make it worth lighting. It took him a couple of minutes with his hands shaking to get the thing in position and lit. Athos had moved from the floor to the bed in that time, but still avoided his eyes.

“Why, my friend?” Aramis kept his voice low as he crouched down beside Athos. “Why condemn your soul and deprive us of your company?”

“It’s my choice. I’m already dead. What does it matter when or how or by whose hand?”

“We did not save your life this morning for you to take it in the evening.”

“I don’t thank you for what you did. I wanted to die. You stole that from me.”

Aramis sat back on his haunches. “You...wanted to die a criminal? And over a false accusation?”

In the dim light, Athos’s eyes were hooded and empty, like those of a crow-pecked corpse. “I’m already condemned. I killed the woman I love. I deserve nothing but a coward’s death, but even the devil doesn’t want me.”

“Athos, this is blasphemy.”

“Is it?” His voice was a scream of pain wrenched from his guts. “If I died, I would have a chance to be with her, in heaven or hell. But I am denied even that. Even that.” He hung his head and his shoulders shook.

“ _Madre de Dios_ ,” Aramis murmured, crossing himself. He rose and closed the door, to give them a little privacy. The room’s desolation was improved not a whit.

He looked in the bread box, but it was empty. There was no sustenance or drink to be found in the entire room, not even wine in the bottles scattered around the floor. “Have you eaten today, my friend?”

Athos ignored him. Aramis could bet he hadn’t eaten in more than a day since his arrest the day before. An empty belly would not help his low mood, but to leave to fetch food would be to allow Athos to make another attempt on his own life. “If I go to bring you something to eat, will you give me your word you won’t try to harm yourself?”

No reply. Aramis sighed quietly, and sat on the floor next to the cot. “So tell me of this hideous crime that makes the finest man I know want to destroy himself. You murdered a woman. What woman? Why? I can’t believe this of you. You’re too honourable to murder anyone.”

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Tell me. Was she a thief? A lover who betrayed you? Perhaps she tried to kill you, eh?” Athos stared at the floor. “Athos, either you talk or I knock you out, fetch Porthos, and we drag you to Treville to have you locked up in the cells for your own protection. Do you want the entire garrison to know what you tried to do?”

“Leave me alone, Aramis. I neither sought nor want your help.”

“That’s very sad, Athos, but unfortunately, I am here and I’m not going to leave. In fact you can shift your skinny arse so I can sit up there too. This floor is cold and too hard. I have standards.”

He nudged Athos over less than kindly, then wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “This room is too cold too. Surely you could afford better.”

“I don’t want better.”

“You’re wasted on soldiering. You should be a monk, one of those orders which values self-flagellation. Talk to me.”

Athos stood, throwing Aramis’s arm off him, and walked to the door. “The woman killed a man, and I, being the upholder of the law, had her hanged.” Aramis stared up at him, wondering why this warranted such boundless guilt. “The woman was my wife, the man, my brother. Now you know, you can leave. I give you my word I won’t...do anything tonight.”

His own _wife_? “Athos, _mi amigo_...I know how this must pain you, but how can you blame yourself? She was a murderess. The law is the law.”

“And the vow of matrimony is a vow unto God. I loved her. I still love her. There is no pain...no torture worse...than this, inside me.” He thumped his chest hard enough to bruise. “Go. Now.”

Aramis stood and walked over to stand chest to chest with Athos. “No,” he said quietly. “No power on earth can force me away from a friend in need, or in agony.”

Athos gripped Aramis’s arms, trying to force him to the door. Aramis fought back, and they struggled to make the other bend to their will, knocking over the stool, tripping over the armour chest, until Aramis had Athos with his back against the wall, heaving like he was exhausted. “No. Stop this, Athos.” He shook the man. “I will not leave you, and nor will Porthos. We don’t believe you are damned, and we won’t let you fling yourself away like false coin. Stop it!”

Athos went still, his eyes close. Under Aramis’s hands, he shook like a man with the ague. Aramis pulled him close and put his hand in Athos’s hair, the way he might comfort a woman, or a child. He murmured quiet words of ease and prayer into the messy locks, gentling his tormented brother, trying to convince him that however great his pain, he was still wanted and needed, loved too, if only by rough and unsentimental men. “You need rest and food, and I think neither is to be found in this joyless room. Come with me to my lodgings.”

“No. Stay. I...I can’t...please stay. Keep away the dark.”

The cot was narrow and sleeping in it with two men would be a trial, but under his leathers, there was nothing to Athos, and Aramis was hardly of Porthos’s build. “Of course. Lie down, Athos. Let your troubles fall away from you.”

Athos gripped his shirt and looked into Aramis’s eyes. “I am naught but sorrow.”

“You are a man of bravery and honour and you are well loved.”

Athos reached up and touched Aramis’s face with the back of his fingers. “More than I deserve.”

“ _Tranquilo_ , _querido_. Lie down.”

Athos obeyed, not bothering to shed his boots. Aramis removed his weapons and laid them carefully against the way, and placed his hat and belt on top of them. He looked around for blankets, and found two, worn and far from clean, at the top of the armour chest. “My friend, we have to find you new lodgings. This is fit only for donkeys.”

Athos was pressed against the wall, and stayed there until Aramis lay down beside him, settling the blankets over them. “No, that’ll never do,” Aramis said, taking Athos firmly into his embrace until Athos was almost on top of him. “That’s the way to share a narrow bed.”

Athos huffed what might have been a laugh. “A man of experience.”

“An abundance of it.” He kissed Athos’s forehead. “Sleep, heal, stay with us. We need you, for you are the best of us.”

“Nonsense.”

“I never lie when in bed with someone.”

Now that really was a laugh, quiet and rusty. Aramis grinned, and tightened his hold. He would keep Athos safe tonight against the devil himself, and to the gates of hell and back to stop his demons stealing him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously you could read this as pre-slash but I deliberately left that open because Athos is too damn broken to form a relationship with anyone, and minutes after a suicide attempt would be a shitty time for Aramis to make a move.
> 
> As always, comments, criticism and correction are craved.


End file.
